Natural Forces: Chapter 2

No Coffee

Habitual action must have taken over and subconsciously moved my feet and took me home. I remember nothing of the walk, no sights no sounds, not even entering my run down basement apartment on the lower east side of Chicago. What I did upon entering I do not know, though there I stood staring at myself in the grime streaked bathroom mirror, naked.

Now I know what you’re thinking, you’re thinking that I am going to say something typical like “It must have been a dream,” or some other cliche line you read in any other piece of fiction, but I didn’t, nope I instead walked into the kitchen, opened up a cupboard and began the action of making coffee.

“Whatever it was I will chalk it up to the ever increasingly shitty life I lead.” I mumbled to myself.

Four months ago I had a completely different outlook on life, my life in particular. I had been going places, had a good job at an Amazon Logistics Centre, and was in line for a promotion. That is until a colleague of mine logged a complaint against me for sexual harassment. Her complaint was “He is too friendly”, apparently I had opened up one door too many, pulled out one too many chair, or perhaps it was the conversation we had the week before.

A group of us, colleagues of mine, were in the lunch room just chatting it up. I remember on my way out I asked this college, the one who reported me, if she had “any plans for this weekend?” , I was planning on going out to a Jazz Club to listen to a band play and thought she might want to go. Perhaps my invite was, hell I don’t know what it was, but I guess that, and the “looks” I gave her was enough to get me fired. I didn’t have the amount of money one needs to fight an accusation like that, nor would it matter, for a company as big as Amazon has deep pockets and an army of lawyers at their beck and call. Needless to say an accusation such as Sexual Harassment being on your employment record as the reason for being fired makes it that much more difficult to get hired elsewhere.

Funny, now thinking back on it, at how one little phrase spoken in complete sincerity could be perverted to mean whatever one wants it to mean. I mean come on, we live in a time when saying a phrase like “Sorry Miss” can throw one into a tissy fit.

“Miss ?! What do you mean Miss?! Just because I have tits and wear make-up you just Assume that I identify as a woman!? How dare you!”

The lack of that fresh coffee aroma brought me back to the here and now, and looking down at my $10.00 Instant Coffee Maker I noticed that the light in the front was not illuminated. It was in the ON position, however nothing was happening. I checked to be sure it was plugged in. Reaching behind the machine and discovering that is was halfway out of the socket I grabbed the end of the plug and re-inserted it.

“Fuck !”

I screamed out as I raised my 120 volt fused fingers into the air, waving like a beauty queen on a parade float hopped up on coke. My anger and frustration almost took control as I had a vision of grabbing that god damn coffee maker and hurling it at the wall. However, I took a long breath, backed up, one step, then two, and plopped myself down on the kitchen chair. I felt defeated.

The first rays of the sun fought their way through my dust streaked kitchen window and graced my round formica-topped table, throwing a faint refection upon my face and in my eyes. The sound of the Garbage Truck outside proved that today was Tuesday, 6 AM.

Four months ago life was different. Four months ago I would be ready for work by now, jumping on my 12 speed and surving my way through the morning traffic.

Now, four months later, here I sit, naked, no coffee, tingling fingers and not giving a shit about some talking Crow.

My life was hard enough as it was.